Gossip Girl 1. One

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note:** Sooo this is random. Completely and utterly out of the blue, watched a movie, got inspired to write some angsty Blair stuff and voila. Enjoy.

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><p>"<em>Society is a masked ball, w<em>_here everyone hides his real c__haracter, and reveals it by h__iding." – __**Ralph Waldo Emerson**__._

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><p>Blair Waldorf had always been the kind of girl others aspired to be. Fashionable, beautiful, connected, she could enter every section of society, seemingly with ease and she never apologized for being exactly who she was. Or at least, that's what it looked like from the outside.<p>

But things scare Blair Waldorf. Things like the future and the first time she sees Nate Archibald it seems like maybe she's looking at hers. But then he meets Serena and (like everyone) his attention is diverted from brown ringlets.

Blair makes mistakes, none that she'd acknowledge. Especially not when she's sixteen and from her pedestal she can see the whole of New York, spread out like she's inside one of those kitschy snow globes they sell on street corners. And she's up so high that the air hitches in her throat and it gets hard to breathe.

Her Mom tells her she'll never be thinner or prettier or happier than she is right now. It'd be easy to believe her, if only she could concentrate and stop thinking about the croissant she hasn't thrown up yet from this morning. But all that goes away when she falls on the bed and the lace of her La Perla digs into her hips and Nate's fingers seek the zipper on her dress. The whole world melts away, for ten seconds exactly before... _Serena_.

It's difficult to differentiate between love and hate, between lust and revulsion, between feeling and numbness. Sometimes Blair feels like she's always between. Between Nate and Serena, between her Mom and her Dad, between here and there.

She fucks Chuck. It's a mistake before it happens and she cries into her pillow that night (and plenty more after.) The next morning she's Blair again and he's her boyfriend's best friend again and it'll never the same, but it has to be because she loves Nate and he's her future.

But it turns out she likes feeling wrong. She likes feeling Chuck's eyes on her hair, her body and how he crushes her hand beneath the table, how it hurts after his fingers have raked her skin, how hard she scrubs herself to hide it all from Nate.

He finds out. He finds out and he's so disgusted. But somehow it feels worth it because he did it first, he ruined it first and if she's betrayed, then he's betrayed.

It's funny how things happen. How she hates them all and yet somehow finds herself running into Dan Humphrey (of all people) when all she wants is to be alone. Really she might as well be, he's awful company, something about Serena no doubt. Or his social climbing sister, or perhaps his aging rocker Father, she isn't sure. Honestly she doesn't care, just so long as they can stay in this murky silence forever.

Their quiet is broken, surprisingly, by her and she talks for hours about everything and anything. He nods and makes faces and she punches him several times (because really, who is he to have opinion or judge?)

Is it wrong that she turns up on his doorstep two days later? That she needs to tell him everything she can think of, even though she knows he doesn't want or need to know?

One night, he kisses her. It's more exploratory than passionate really, like he's trying to make sure he can do this with someone other than Serena. And she's surprised that she doesn't mind the way his hands feel on her waist or how his mouth tastes like coffee and Nate's was always toothpaste and pot.


	2. Two

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **Let me know what you think, what you're expecting, anything really. I heart those reviews.

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><p>She disappears. Travels to France, to Paris and eats endless macaroons and wanders cobbled streets and absorbs well, everything really. She'll always say it was because her Father offered a summer abroad but honestly she thinks it has more to do with the overwhelming fear of ending up living in Brooklyn.<p>

She studies and observes and expands her closet. She lives and breathes and eats and feels like maybe she isn't the same girl she was when she let Dan Humphrey kiss her. She becomes fluent and converses with waiters like a native and she thinks she doesn't have to return to New York (but she does, she left far more there than her heart, her golden heart on his mossy green sleeve.)

Nate appears, golden and tanned and strong as ever, fresh from months spent aboard the Charlotte with the Captain and she can't help but feel captivated by him. It's like time flashes back and he's the same boy she knew in preschool, before the Shepherd wedding and everything else. But there's years between then and now and she wonders if they'll ever be able to truly bridge the gap.

She's cautious, perhaps overly so but they fall back into old habits quickly. He orders her favourite kind of bread and holds her hand across the table and opens the door before she's even approached it. And she realises, watching him fall asleep in front of the fire in her apartment, that she could probably live like this forever. Because he's still Nate and she might still be Blair.

They aren't even together – for all intents and purposes they could be - but he sits in galleries with her and holds her hand while she cries when they watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's _in an open air cinema. He jokes about mingling with the commoners and she rewards him by aiming a sizable handful of salty popcorn in his face (her taste in movie snacks never changed, it was always Serena who preferred sweet.)

Their first kiss, second time round, is chaste and slow and her fingers press into the skin at the back of his neck. He smiles and it's so delicious she wants to keep a Polaroid of it forever. And as she clips back up to her apartment, it's all too clear that she's sixteen and she's back on her pedestal again.

When he tells her he loves her, by the river of all places, she nods and smiles and kisses him, takes his hand and interlinks it with hers inside her pocket. But in truth she can feel the old Blair fear returning, creeping through her veins and freezing her blood like ice. She still remembers when it was over, when he told her to leave but he left instead. And it terrifies her, losing him again, losing everything they are again, everything that being them means. It keeps her awake at night, makes her flee the eight hundred thread count and wander the apartment, trailing her fingers along cold surfaces and curling up by the window, watching lights roar past, blazing and it's almost blinding. It reminds her of something she read in her time at Constance, a long dead American author; she was never really into remembering the details of literature. But she searches it online all the same, at least the parts she can remember and it's from something by Tennessee Williams.

She snaps her laptop shut when she realises whose lips she heard it from, pads across the parquet floors and slides beneath the sheets, all without disturbing Nate. He always was a heavy sleeper. She's heavy lidded in the morning, fatigue etched in the lines around her mouth but he's full of the joys and for the first time in a long time, he's genuinely irritating her.

He holds it out like he's offering her another slice of toast and her eyes prick hot. And it's Blair, for once it isn't Jenny or Vanessa or even Serena. Not even Serena? Nate starts talking about New York, going home, but all Blair can see is the way the sun illuminates each of the facets in the ring, lighting it blue, green, red. Is she really Mrs Blair Archibald, after all this time?


	3. Three

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **Hope you're liking it, let me know what you want/expect to happen. I do love me some input.**  
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><p>They go home, but returning feels more like a defeat than a victory even when folds of golden hair surround her (it's threaded with sunny highlights from a summer spent in Santorini – Blair doesn't ask about Carter, but she notices he isn't Serena's plus one on the wedding RSVP.) The invites are sent, Blair spends what feels like years correcting the calligraphy and it all starts to feel real.<p>

She's finishing the dregs of her morning cappuccino when Dorota places the post by her side and tearing through envelopes she spots Dan Humphrey's name. Etched in his prickly handwriting are the words –

"_We all live in a house on fire, __No fire department to call, __No way out, just the upstairs w__indow to look out of while t__he fire burns the house down w__ith us trapped, locked in it." _– _**Tennessee Williams**__._

It's a couple of weeks before they run into each other, both alone, both with tickets to the matinee showing of Sabrina. Her mouth contorts into some kind of twisted smile and he returns it, proffers his bucket of popcorn. It's salty.

It's insane really; that she's nineteen and that she's marrying Nate and that she's sitting in a late night diner with Dan Humphrey, picking at onion rings and discussing Paris and everything in between. He's been writing, ink still staining his fingertips, has even got a few things published in the New Yorker. She wants to ask about Serena, see if he's done with all of his pining. Maybe he's with Vanessa now? She doesn't really want to know at all though, in the end she doesn't ask at all.

"So..." he does that annoying thing where he draws out a thought so long it makes her completely unsure of what he's going to say "You and Nate, huh?"

"Sometimes I think it kind of always was," she replies and shrugs when his eyebrows knit together "I mean it's not like I was going to marry Chuck Bass."

It's his turn to shrug "I kind of always thought you two would end up together. You made sense."

"And Nate and I don't?" there's an edge to her voice that dares him to disagree so he looks down, shakes his head, runs a hand through his shortly cropped hair. She thinks it suits him.

She reaches for the sugar, she really hates diner coffee, and it truly tastes like car fuel. But it seems he has the same idea, surprising really considering how she remembers that he used to take it black and watery and effortlessly disgusting. Their fingers meet awkwardly and she glares up at him, trying to manage something severe but instead it feels more confused. His eyes reflect the same. They both look away.

A few minutes later he makes excuses about having classes early in the morning (he enrolled at NYU, why isn't she surprised) so she makes her way home alone, high heels clattering evenly against the pavement. A cab would feel too stifling so she walks the next couple of blocks before dialling Serena's phone.

"Hello?" Serena draws out the o and ends it with a giggle, Blair recognises her drunken voice from a mile off. It brings back memories of leopard print swirling, Serena's arms waving through the air, Dan's face and Blair telling him to stay away. Sometimes she wishes everyone would just stay away.

"Where are you?" Blair's tone is clipped and rinses of disappointment. Serena hasn't changed and maybe she never will, but it doesn't stop Blair from wanting more for her than recollections of evenings tainted with vodka stains.

"Downtown, just having a few drinks," Serena giggles again and Blair overhears a gruff voice in the background. She inwardly notes that it isn't Carter.

"Can you come over when you're done?" she doesn't bother to hide the neediness in her question, not when she genuinely needs to see Serena this badly.

There's a beat and an inhale before the answer. "Sure."


	4. Four

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **Oh my Lord, it's been a long time since I've updated. Let me know what you think, it's been a while but I still love those reviews.

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><p>She's sprawled out on her bedspread, legs lying at awkward angles, hand clenched around a fist of the silky blue comforter that her Dad bought her, his last gift before he left them. Or rather, before he finally came out of the closet. Blair should have guessed really, no straight man spent that much time in Bendel's.<p>

It's as if the more she considers her life, the more difficult it becomes to accept. She'd gotten to the point at which she'd accepted her mistakes, could shrug off even the cruelest of taunts about bed hopping and boy swapping. Because what did their opinion matter anyway. She was Blair Waldorf.

Except that she hadn't been that girl for a long time now. She liked to pretend there was no old or new, merely Blair, one person who'd survived. But in the end, there was a seperation. Between now and then. Between what she'd done and what she was trying to do. The confusing part was that both her past and present contained the same people. Nate, Serena, Chuck. Dan. They were all there, like pieces on a chess board.

Serena's loping steps brought her out of her thoughts. As she entered the room Blair could smell the essential oils mix she always wore, could hear the swish of her hair, feel the clumsy gracefulness of her gait. She collapsed beside her and the bed covers fluttered for a moment in the breeze before settling.

They remained just like that, in silence, for a couple more minutes. "Who were you with?" Blair doesn't mean to sound so accusing, does she? Not that it matters, they've had this conversation countless times before.

"No one," Serena replies, all of the laughter from earlier dissapated.

Silence. Cars outside roared past, the wind blew the gauzy curtains.

"You're marrying Nate," there's a cold, hard fist in Serena's voice and it catches Blair by surprise. Her stomach clenches.

"Yes," her voice is firm and clean, like a parent scolding a noisy child. She doesn't know why or where this topic came from but clearly Serena had wanted, needed to say it because then her body untensed and she rolled onto her stomach, knocked her foot playfully against Blair's knee.

"So, you wanna watch Tiffany's?"

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><p>It's a few days later, over breakfast, that everything becomes serious. They're sharing the New Yorker, Nate with the Sports section, Blair scanning the rest for anything of interest.<p>

"I was thinking we should get an apartment."

It shocks her so much she chokes a little on her mouthful of cappuccino. She stares at him until he raises his eyes to meet hers. "I mean, we're getting married so it makes sense," there's hesitation in his voice, he's waiting for her approval.

When she was sixteen, this would have been a dream. Actually, in one recurring dream she'd had, Nate had proposed and whisked her away after revealing he was in fact a prince who'd been forced to hide his true identity to protect himself. And as much as she wanted to smile and squeeze his hand, she could hear Anne Archibald's voice. _Wouldn't that be lovely Nate? For you and Blair to have your own space, it's silly for the two of you to be living seperately, after all you're going to be married..._

"I suppose," she replied, trying not to sound as unsure as she felt. She'd known it would happen, of course, but so soon? She'd only just settled back into her old room. And she didn't want to give up her space, her closet, her_ freedom_. Returning her gaze to the paper her eyes lighted on a familiar name. _Journeys by Daniel Humphre_y.

Her pupils focused and she flicked across the lines. It was well written, too angsty for her liking but interesting. Was he a regular contributor now? It didn't have his photo published but she presumed he'd been against that, he never did like any pictures of himself. Especially not anything she'd taken. He'd always squint or close his eyes at the wrong moment and she'd be left exasperated.

"Blair?" she glanced up and couldn't help but smile at how young and worried Nate looked.

"We should get an apartment," she responded, squeezing his hand with her own. A grin formed on his handsome face and he brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss to them.

"I'm gonna go meet up with Chuck, go for a drink or something," getting to his feet he knocked invisible creases from his Brook Brothers slacks and took one last mouthful of coffee "See you tonight," he leant across the table, kissing her with easy intimacy.

Looking back to the article, Blair chewed her bottom lip. Nate had placed his mug down right in the centre of it, and as she lifted it, drops of coffee obscured almost the last half, rendering it unreadable. She'd never know what Dan had to say.


	5. Five

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **So I'm sort of on an inspiration binge. SO SHOOT ME. As always, I care what you think. + As a sidenote, I intend to keep writing as long as my muse permits. I'll keep you posted.

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><p>Blair held her breath as the last button, what felt like the fifteen hundredth, was finally fastened. She'd been rolling her ruby ring in circles around her finger all morning and now had a vivid red line where it had been. It was hot, she hadn't been sleeping well and she really wasn't in the mood to be trying on wedding dresses.<p>

As the curtain was thrust back and she stepped into the light, her natural confidence seemed to fail her. The shop assistants and Serena turned to look at her, she felt exposed, victimised. Focusing on the mirrors, she settled herself in front of them, her skirt was arranged around her.

"Oh B," Serena clutched her chest "You look so beautiful." Reaching forward she took Blair's hand between her own long, elegant fingers, forcing Blair to stop her twisting.

For once, she didn't feel resentful of her. Serena had been lovely in tulle, stunning in chiffon, all day. Radiant in tones of lemon that would make any mere mortal look sallow. Radiant in a red that would have look slutty, but on Serena merely made her look more golden and slender.

She hadn't been eating again. When she'd returned from Paris, Blair had promised herself she wouldn't fall back into her own emotional rut. But she had. She waited for someone, anyone to notice. It was pathetic, that she could fully recognise her own attention seeking behaviour and was powerless to stop it. Something about the spotlights of the dressing room, the plump carpeting, white orchids and immaculate staff made Blair want to run. Right down Fifth Avenue, in this wedding dress. Wouldn't that be a picture.

With Nate, the old issues were flaring. She swore to herself she'd moved on, but maybe there was no moving on. It was strange, because with Serena she'd almost understood why it had happened. Really, Blair knew what it was like to fall in love with Serena. She did it everyday. She knew what it was like to need her, to crave her presence, even when you knew how much smaller and duller you looked beside her. If Serena wanted you, how could you turn away?

But what really scared her, chilled her down to the bone, was the thought that he might do it again with someone else. Because another girl, another woman, someone who didn't have pink glossy lips or endless legs or mounds of golden blonde hair, would be the deepest betrayal of all. He wouldn't do it again, he wouldn't do it again. When she wasn't wondering what Audrey would do or trying to personify Grace Kelly, it was her own personal mantra.

Would he do it again?

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><p>"No one does red meat for weddings anymore, you know."<p>

Blair had been avoiding this dinner with Anne Archibald and her own Mother for days. As soon as the engagement had become common knowledge Anne had suggested a meal for the three to discuss arrangements. In reality it had become their opinions and Blair pushing Romaine lettuce around her plate.

Despite her Mother's promise that it wouldn't become an Archibald-Waldorf dictatorship, it had. Blair felt like she was melting, sliding slowly from view. The restaurant was relatively busy, populated by young couples, wealthy professionals, business associates. The usual Upper East Side crowd.

Blair picked a small piece of lint from the waistband of her Moschino pleated skirt. In truth, she would have much rather remained at home this evening, watching Roman Holiday, reading or even just getting an early night in those Calvin Klein pyjamas her Father had sent earlier in the week.

She'd spent two afternoons trying to find Dan's article. Every newsstand she visited had sold out and they hadn't published it online. Dan really needed to get his own website.

Across the room, a woman sat alone. Hair pulled back into a harsh bun at the back of her head, dressed in a loose fitting cashmere sweater and black pencil skirt. The man sat across from her, presumably her husband, was tapping on the screen of his iPhone. She was furiously stabbing at her own Blackberry. Their food remained untouched and their glasses were full. The table was small but both had pulled their feet back underneath their chairs so that the largest distance possible was between them. Not even their knees were touching.

"Blair sweetheart, you really must make a decision," her Mother's hand landed on her arm and Blair's head snapped up, she hadn't even realised she'd been staring.

"I really don't mind," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear "Whatever you and Anne think is fine with me."

Her Mother regarded her for a moment with interest, opened her mouth as if to speak before thinking better and turning back to Anne to resume a conversation about peonies. Blair exhaled the breath she'd been holding.


	6. Six

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **I like this chapter. It's especially long and I like giving you guys something to really get your teeth into. Let me know what you like, dislike, predict for the future. I have plenty of ideas so keep it all coming.

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><p>She works it out like this.<p>

Nate never says enough. He keeps it all bottled up inside until she's desperate to know what's going on inside his head. He smiles and kisses her but when it comes to emotions, Archibalds are permanently stunted. He says I love you and tells her she's beautiful readily enough. She has nothing to complain about really. But he'll never tell her anything about himself that might become an involved conversation. There's nothing dark or burning about Nate. He's uncomplicated and sweet, a knot free length of string. She loves him.

Chuck didn't say anything at all. That wasn't the point of what they had. It was physical, mistakes, self loathing worked out between the sheets. A sick form of therapy, Blair's own form of self harming, mutilating herself with every kiss. They treated each other badly. She'd been working out her pent up feelings about Serena and Nate and he'd been... Well she didn't really know, she'd never asked. Nowadays when they bumped into each other they slipped back into the easy comfort of having been around each other their entire lives. He said disgusting things, she quirked an eyebrow, Nate laughed. They pretended it had never happened.

Dan said too much. All the time. It frightened her that when it all began, they had so much in common. And that somehow, this boy from Brooklyn who'd never known any of the high society she had, somehow held the same fears. They'd speak for hours. Literature, their parents, films, ultimately finding a cross section between what he thought and what she thought. They niftily avoided Serena because one bad word against her and Blair would clam up. No one spoke badly about Serena but Blair. She didn't love him. She doesn't.

It's when she's alone that she figures it all out. A woman needs to get her affairs in order before her marriage, she told herself. So one night she'd lain awake and done just that. A little mental filing, that was all. But the more she considered it, the more Dan secured himself in her mind. When he'd taken her to a lesson on how to make macaroons, when she knew he hated baking. When he'd presented her with a first edition copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's, just because. When he'd kissed her and it had felt strange but welcome. Waking up in the cramped bedroom of the loft. Slipping out before Rufus or Jenny saw her, leaving him with a note to meet her at the Met.

It's not as clean and tidy as she'd like it to be. But it'll have to do for now. Nate has been scouting out apartments and she views them, picks at small issues and leaves. They have an almost fight about it, as close to arguing as they've ever been. He says she's being selfish. She says he's childish. He grabs his shirt, threatens to leave, she urges him to go. In the end they're kissing and that's the end of that. It probably would have been better if he'd left.

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><p>Nate's suggestions for their first dance song really are ridiculous. Who knew he liked Journey so much? Blair flicks through the email he'd forwarded her, a smile growing on her lips. It's good to know that he isn't always so perfect, that he still likes the same music he did when they were fifteen.<p>

A name appears in the corner of her screen.

Dan: Where are you?

She frowns, eyebrows contorting grumpily.

Blair: Is that any way to greet someone?

Dan: Sorry. What are you doing?

The question should really be what is he doing? They haven't spoken since the night in the diner and now he's being unnecessarily abrupt.

Blair: I'm at home, reading emails.

It seemed a safer response than detailing what she was actually doing. Dan didn't need to know she was sifting through Nate's unfortunate musical tastes. It was none of his business.

Dan: Sounds productive. Want to get coffee?

Actually, she did. It was half eleven, the caffeine buzz from her morning cappuccino had worn off and she was craving more. But did she really want to go with Dan?

Blair: Only if you come Uptown. I'm not going to Brooklyn just so you won't complain about the price of an Americano.

There was a pause before his reply.

Dan: Fine but you're buying my eight dollar coffee.

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><p>"So when's the date?"<p>

He jumps right in, literally as soon as they've sat down. She stirs her drink before replying. Why is he so interested? He never felt the need to mention anything about her and Nate before. Or Nate at all. Like Serena, he was considered an unsafe topic.

"Why, do you need to buy a tux?" she fixes him with one of her trademark glares, something she hasn't doled out in a while. Somehow, around Dan, she feels like the old Blair. But there is no old Blair, there is only this girl, this one person. This one survivor.

"What, my brown cords won't do?" there's a twinkle in his eye but a barb in his voice. He always did like to challenge her when she erred on the side of superficiality. She makes a face and sips her drink.

"I caught your story in the New Yorker," she steers the conversation into safer territory, the easiness with which their banter has returned unnerves her "It was," she pauses long enough to annoy him.

"It was?" the impatience in his tone is delicious. She always was his harshest critic.

"Nice," she responds, knowing how the word will impact him. She watches as he crushes, like a fizzy drink can clenched inside a strong fist. He recovers well but she knows that it will sting him and she enjoys the small victory.

"It was alright," he agrees "Definitely not my best. But then again I haven't written anything new and good in a long time."

"Just new shit then?" she tilts her head to one side and watches the smile spread across his face. Despite himself, he's laughing.

"Well it's either new or good, it can't be both."

"What a shame," she rests her elbow on the table, her chin in her palm "So you're finished then."

"Automatically."

"Good, I never liked you anyway."

They both pause, because it's becoming dangerous to continue. Blair feels a searing pain like acid spreading in her chest so she drops her eyes, twists her ring. "Have you seen Serena?"

She's broken the unspoken pact and his entire face registers confusion. Is she so desperate to avoid this intimacy that she's willing to bring Serena into things? Apparently so.

"No," he shakes his head, rubs a hand across his cropped head "She was away and I was writing. I went to stay with my Mom in Hudson. And then- I met up with some friends."

Vanessa. It's implicit and Blair replays her name over and over. He's with Vanessa now. It's over, it's really over. "We can be friends," she bursts out "I'm with Nate- I mean, I'm back in the city and you're," she pauses carefully "You're writing again so we can. We can be friends."

He nods slowly, extremely slowly. "Friends," he says the word as if it's new to his vocabulary. She hates how difficult he's being. Why doesn't he ever make anything easier? "Of course. Friends."

She wants to shout at him to stop making her feel foolish. She wants to throw her coffee at his smug white shirt. She doesn't.

"Good."


	7. Seven

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **So I know it's been a while and I'm sorry for that. But I'm writing another update as we speak so enjoy it while you can.

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><p>Is there anything worse than a bachelorette party? Right now, Blair doesn't think so. They're seated at the dining table, surrounded by information about venues and colour swatches and everything else that concerns the wedding and the endless list of things that remain undecided.<p>

"We could go retro," Serena suggested, swiping a finger along the edge of one of the cupcakes they were supposed to be testing and tasting the frosting "Bad eighties music and jello shots. Or back to school, I think I still have my Constance skirt somewhere," she glanced at Blair, who was flipping hurriedly through a copy of the New Yorker. Intrigued, Serena lifted it from between her best friends fingers. "Why do you have-" she glanced at the date "An old copy of the New Yorker? Are you researching something?"

Blair looked up as if she'd only just realised Serena was seated across from her. "Oh nothing, just my Mom told me about this article I should check out and I couldn't find it." That was a blatant lie, but Serena seemed to buy it and pushed the dog eared copy of the paper aside. "Besides, you're the Maid of Honour," Blair squeezed Serena's hand "You make the decisions and I know I'll love it."

She could see a mild frown forming on Serena's brow but it passed as quickly as it had arrived. Blair had been acting extremely unBlairlike of late and her best friend was beginning to notice. Luckily she put it down to wedding jitters when in truth, Blair hadn't felt like herself for a long time. It's as if she's looking in on everything, floating somewhere outside of her body but she can't seem to muster an emotional response to anything anymore. Nate... Nate's enveloped in everything, in the city, in their friends. He's always suggesting dinners and drinks and why isn't she excited? She's never excited.

* * *

><p>She's in her bedroom when her phone rings. Blair snaps open her lipstick-red Marni handbag and the caller ID reads that it's her Father. She considers not answering.<p>

"Hey Dad."

"Blair Bear!" his voice is filled with his usual comical level of enthusiasm "How are you ma cherie?"

"Fine," she pauses, before realising how deflated she must sound "Great, I'm great."

"I'm glad," there's a smile in his voice and Blair hears speaking in the background "Well I must dash but I'll be booking our flights over soon, can't wait to catch up on all the wedding details. Love you."

"Lo-" he hangs up before she has a chance to finish. As she gazes around the room, her bedroom, she registers the Tiffany blue walls, the silky luxury of her comforter, the plush carpet she's spent so many nights crying upon, her collection of Audrey DVDs. Giving this up won't be easy.

* * *

><p>She and Nate have been visiting apartments for over a week now and nothing's right. Well, there were several that could have worked but Blair always finds something wrong with them. The ceilings aren't high enough and where's all the light?<p>

Nate corners her in a walk in closet when the realtor has left them alone. There's a frown between his eyebrows and he takes her hand in his.

"What's going on?" she hates that he does know her, even though she'd like to pretend he doesn't.

"Nothing, nothing," she murmurs, trying to get him to let go. Just let go. "I'm tired and my Mom's driving me crazy. I'll be better tomorrow, I promise."

"Tell me what's going on," he refuses to budge, lifts a hand to her forehead and sweeps a strand of hair away "What's going on in here?"

She looks up at his perfect face, the way his blue eyes crinkle at her, asking for the truth. But she can't, she just can't. So she leans up and kisses him instead.

"Let's go home," she whispers, squeezing his hand and leading him toward the door.


	8. Eight

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **And my ever wavering muse seems to have returned. Who knows for how long, but I'll go with it for now. Hope you like.

* * *

><p>The music is so loud Blair can't even hear herself think. Not that she'd want to, not right now. Serena's hand squeezes eagerly and Blair follows where she's led. The club is over crowded and the air tastes like dry ice and Maraschino cherries. The bar is sticky beneath her elbows but she pretends not to notice as she orders a Cosmopolitan. Serena orders two double vodka tonics and downs one as soon as it's placed in her hand, toying with the ice cubes inside the other. Blair pretends not to notice.<p>

The turnout was surprising good, considering Blair had never bothered trying to stay in contact with anyone other than Serena. She suspects that half of the girls only showed up because they wanted to see if Serena and Blair would get drunk and make out like they once did in high school. Everything always goes back to then, doesn't it? She could be seventy five and still feel seventeen. She quietly wonders if she'll always be running away from something.

"Let's dance!" Serena squeals, twirling Blair into the fray. Her Cosmopolitan slops onto her shoes but she doesn't have the heart to be annoyed. Not when Serena has made this much effort to plan the 'bachelorette extravaganza' as she termed it. Thank God she didn't invite their Mothers as she'd threatened to do. Blair tossed her hair, trying to focus on the beat that pounded through the soles of her feet and into her legs. The more she tried not to think, the more they seemed to form. Serena disappeared and returned with neon green coloured shots. She offered them to everyone and her eyes widened in surprise when Blair grabbed two for herself. If this was her bachelorette she was determined not to remember it.

* * *

><p>"Blair, get back in the car," Serena howled as Blair hobbled along the sidewalk. Her feet were fucking killing her. She finally understood why normal people that didn't get ferried about in Lincoln Town cars couldn't wear five inch stilettos on a daily basis.<p>

"I'm fine, really," she promised "Drop the other girls off, I just want some fresh air, I'll call you."

Serena made an exasperated noise through her teeth but the window slid shut. Blair exhaled. She really wasn't drunk anymore, at least she didn't think she was. Unfortunately she was in Brooklyn, according to the sign above her head. She frowned. Who lived in Brooklyn?

* * *

><p>Jesus Christ it was cold. She rang the bell for the tenth time and shivered. The silk of her dress was as thin as paper and just as insulating. She hopped from one foot to the other, hoping that someone it might help with the aching. It didn't.<p>

A scuffling sound and a crack and the door was open. Dan Humphrey tightened the cord of his fraying plaid dressing gown around his waist and screwed his eyes up against the light of the hall. Blair's face swam in his vision. Blair? What the hell was she doing here? And dressed like she was somewhere special, her fancy undo haphazardly falling apart so strands of wispy hair brushed her shoulders.

"Jeez Humphrey," Blair complained, pushing past him and into the apartment building "What number are you?" she demanded.

He stared at her, glanced between the open door to her flushed face. He considered throwing her out on her ass. What the hell was she doing here?

"Fifteen."

* * *

><p>Dan's apartment is exactly the way she'd imagined it would be. Exactly the way it should be. Books and empty mugs and coffee rings on the end table. Lamps knocked over and thick rugs, wooden boards and overflowing magazine racks. She brushes her fingers across the top of a pile of literature, all the shelves were full. She could see him trying to vaguely tidy in her peripheral vision.<p>

"You aren't cleaning up for me, surely?" she wanted to add, you never have before, but it seemed a dangerous path to tread. Who knew where it would lead.

An almost shy grin gathered in his mouth and he stopped moving inanimate objects. Her lips were pink from cold and they stood out on her face even more so than usual. He considered how much he wanted to kiss her. "Do you want something to drink? Tea?"

She nodded and twirled a strand of dark hair "Vodka please."

He stopped and looked at her for a moment. She felt as if he were checking she was in fact Blair Cornelia Waldorf. She waited for a cutting remark. It never came. He disappeared into the kitchen, returned with two tumblers and a bottle. "So, where have you been tonight?" he asked while pouring.

She shrugged "Oh this old thing?" the hem of her exquisite silk dress draped swung across her knees "Picked it up at a thrift store."

He chuckled, deep in his throat. Blair at a thrift store was possibly the most unimaginable pairing possible. He pictured her amongst discarded shearling jackets and dusty copies of Vogue from the 70s. Handing her the now half full glass, he clinked his against hers. "Cheers."

"Salut," she replied and swallowed the liquid in one mouthful. Managing not to cough felt like a victory as it burned a swift path down her throat.

He was watching her again with a strange curiosity. When she'd moved to Paris, part of him had honestly believed he'd never see her again. And now… Now she was marrying Nate and yet she was sitting here, half drunk in his messy apartment. And the lines seemed to blur.


	9. Nine

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **I have to say I'm loving the renewed interest in this story. Thank you for all of your kind comments, I really do appreciate each and every one. Feel free to let me know what you think of this chapter!

* * *

><p>"Tell me about the New Yorker," Blair insists, with her knees curled up underneath her. Somewhere during the conversation she'd settled herself with a comforter and he'd propped his chin up on the arm of the overstuffed chair facing her. They'd traversed everything, it seemed, in a mere few hours. Paris and New York and what lay between, missing out Nate and Serena and Vanessa. They didn't need to talk about that. Neither of them wanted to.<p>

"It just happened, I don't know," he shrugged but she could tell he was proud "They contacted me, they'd read some of my short stories or something, and suddenly there I was in print." He stopped and exhaled. It was amazing.

"It's amazing Dan, really," she echoed his own thoughts as he met her eyes and could feel genuine warmth. She reached out and squeezed his arm and then regretted it. She could feel him slipping away again, why did they always get to this point and then turn away? "Dan?"

"Yes?" his eyes hadn't left her face and he creased an eyebrow. She leaned forward slowly, keeping her focus on him as their lips met. His felt bitten, hers smooth. Her body seemed to naturally react to the closeness, drawing her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. New York was silent as they slid deeper into the couch, discarding the comforter and her dress gathering around her hips. When they finally separated she stared up at him, suddenly noticing the stubble and tiny lines around his eyes that spoke of too many late nights. There was an intimacy between them that both frightened and tempted her. What would it be like to feel this every day, all the time?

But instead of asking questions, she leant in to kiss him again and began sliding her dress over her head.

* * *

><p>Hot sunlight. Dry mouth. Blair's naked legs writhed against the sheets and she pressed her face into the pillow, expecting to smell the eucalyptus scent Nate's housekeeper used. Instead it was all coffee and something indiscernible.<p>

Oh God. She's in Dan's apartment. Dan's bed. Naked. Oh God. She balls her hands into fists beneath the sheets and hopes he isn't awake.

A clatter in the kitchen. He's awake. Fuck. Sliding out of bed, she keeps her eyes closed for as long as possible, feeling her way around the floor for her clothes. If she doesn't open her eyes then this might not be real. It might all be a horrible dream where she cheated on Nate. Where she slept with Dan Humphrey.

But is that horrible? Not really, but she can't think about that right now. Must get out. Must get coffee.

"Oh," the word is so softly spoken it could be a breath. Blair spins around, dress in one hand, high heel in the other. Luckily she'd found her slip otherwise this would be far more awkward. Could it be more awkward?

"Erm," I want to die "Hey."

"So you're- going," he doesn't phrase it as a question, he isn't an idiot. She has a fiancé, you're already an idiot.

"I just thought it would be-" what? what did she think it would be? "Better, somehow."

"Sure," he nods and it's so sharp it hurts his brain "Go right ahead." Leave again.

She slides her dress over her head, begins pressing her feet back into her shoes and winces. She's about to ask if he's seen her purse when she spots it on the end of the bed. Somehow it hurts that he isn't even trying to stop her. What did she expect? "I guess I'll…" she trails off and begins hobbling toward the door, trying to walk normally through the agony. She sights two steaming mugs of coffee on the counter and a knot hardens in her throat. "See you later," Blair tries for chipper but it comes out hoarse.

She cries all the way home.

* * *

><p>A day follows the next, the sun continues to rise and set and even though Blair feels irrevocably changed, the world keeps on turning. When something big happens, and you face it alone, somehow you think everything and everyone else should be different. Altered somehow in your realisation. What you forget is that it is personal to you and you only.<p>

Serena has no idea as she helps lace Blair into her wedding dress for one last fitting. They finally chose after what felt like forever. It's perfect, moulded to her shape and yet so soft it seems as if it's been crafted from sugar. Standing alone in the dressing room while Serena fawns over a crystal encrusted something or other, Blair can't help but feel that she pales in comparison to the gown. In the mirror she can see she's too skinny, something she'd never thought possible. There are dark shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep, red marks on her arms and chest from where she's been breaking out in stress hives. And then there's this tiny crescent moon shape in the small of back. She didn't notice it until yesterday, when she knew instantly what it was. Dan.

Nate has no idea as he tries to make Blair go back on her sex strike. She tells him it's because she doesn't want to risk bad luck for the wedding but in reality the idea of sleeping with Nate when she has been between someone else's sheets so recently makes her feel sick. And she is sick. At first it's sporadic and then it's daily. She wonders if she's reverting back to her old bulimia. But this feels different somehow.

Her Mother swoons over the flowers (hydrangeas) the endless varieties of frosting, the ice sculptures, the kind of tablecloths, the way in which the bows are tied. Blair's glad someone else cares because she can't muster the energy. Where is Blair Waldorf? She wonders it a hundred times a day, especially when she bumps into someone she used to know. Who was the girl that used to scheme and manipulate? I wish I was her.

* * *

><p>It's at yet another dinner orchestrated by her Mother that she considers telling Serena the truth. They're seated next to each other, and Blair clenches her best friends hand beneath the table. Serena turns, concern written on her face. This was always Blair's old signal, meet me in the bathroom. And it seems they both still know what it means because several moments later they're barricaded in a cubicle.<p>

"Are you okay?" Serena asks, flipping her hair over her shoulder and cupping Blair's chin, examining her pale complexion.

No I'm not. I slept with your ex boyfriend and I'm marrying the boy that you cheated on me with. I am not even in the vicinity of okay. "Just so incredibly nauseous," Blair replies through gritted teeth, leaning back against the cubicle wall.

Serena crouches and begins rummaging in her handbag. Blair glances down, vaguely interested before Serena pops back up triumphantly with a small plastic bag tucked between her fingers. Dropping the toilet seat down, she casually begins raking out pencil thin lines. Blair inhales and pretends that this isn't happening. It's happening.

"What are you doing?" she asks, knowing it's such a stupid question. Serena looks up, with eyes that read of disbelief.

"Are you serious? You were the Queen of coke and champagne when we were kids," Serena shakes her golden, perfect head and hunches further over. Blair averts her eyes, it feels wrong to watch. "Want some?" now she's offering the rolled hundred dollar note. Did she really have to use a hundred?

Now she feels sicker than ever, except this time it's warranted. "What the fuck are you doing?" anger erupts in her chest. Apparently she has the energy for this. Swiping her hand across the lid, she ruins the lines, sending them sprinkling through the air. Serena screeches and her arms collide with Blair's shoulders. Before either of them can think the cubicle door is open and they're scrabbling with each other by the sinks. "What is wrong with you?" Blair pants between blows.

"Do you think you have the right to tell me what to do?" Serena's pupils are the size of dinner plates, Blair just can't tell if it's the drugs or the rage "You have everything you could ever want and you're in here with me!"

They break apart, both breathing heavily. "What are you talking about?" Blair enquires, clutching her chest, not caring that it'll leave an ugly red mark for her Mother to notice later.

"Nate. You and Nate. Getting married. Did you know he was with me the night before he left for Paris?" there's a venom in Serena's voice that burns "He left my bed to go to you."

Blair stumbles backwards and grabs hold of the porcelain of the sink. Her hands feel clammy and cold and her stomach heaves. What does this mean? "What happened to you?" there are tears in her voice and in her eyes.

Serena shakes her golden, perfect head and leaves the bathroom in a cloud of her personal essential oils mix. The smell stings Blair's eyes


	10. Ten

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **As always, I love feedback. Thank you for reading and commenting and being interested :)

* * *

><p>Nate finds her curled up in the foetal position on her bed. She listens as the bed sheets rustle with his weight. His breath smells like toothpaste as he kisses her cheek. "Where did you go?" he asked "One minute you were there and the next I couldn't find you."<p>

She wants to apologise. Her Mother organised a beautiful dinner and she ran away from it all. Nate's voice doesn't sound hurt though, just confused. She rolls over and looks up at him, touches the perfect looseness of his hair.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, pressing her cheek into the sleeve of his jacket. it feels soft and clean against her skin.

"Don't worry about it," he places a feathery light kiss right by her hairline. For some reason it makes her want to cry. Did he sleep with Serena or was that just a lie to twist the knife? The problem was that now, Blair didn't feel she had the right to ask. Partly because he had every right, they weren't together when it had supposedly happened. And then there were her own indiscretions which seemed to be mounting with each passing day.

"I think we should get that apartment," she says into the crook of his elbow.

"Really?" when she meets his eyes she can't help but smile, his happiness is infectious "Which one?"

"The one with the walk in closet and the floor to ceiling windows," she tilts her head to one side.

"Ah the walk in closet," he grins and raises his eyebrows "I knew you liked that one," then he leans down to kiss her and it feels safe. There's something so solid and stable about being with Nate. Despite their less than steady history and the issues she knows will always plague them, there's a familiarity and an ease to him that she knows she won't feel with anyone else. He knows her, through and through, as well as it's possible to know someone. Maybe what they've done before doesn't matter, maybe all that matters is now.

She kisses back with a ferocity she hasn't possessed in a long time and Blair feels the surprise register in Nate's body. He leans up, looking at her with an expression of intrigue. "I'm seriously thinking of reconsidering that no sex thing."

A smile spreads across Nate's mouth. On anyone else it would look wrong but on him it just makes him all the more irresistible. She could still remember the way it felt to enter a room on his arm when they were sixteen. Knowing that every girl in the room was seething with jealousy. Blair Waldorf loved nothing better than to win. Blair Waldorf had dreamed of wearing Anne Archibald's Mother's wedding ring on her finger. Blair Waldorf has won.

* * *

><p>"It's lovely that you and Serena have remained so close," Anne Archibald's voice was saccharine as she poured Blair another cup of tea and stirred her own.<p>

"She's my best friend," Blair shrugged and smiled thinly. In truth right now Serena was anything but. They hadn't spoken since their altercation in the bathroom and frankly, Blair had nothing to say to her. Well, she had plenty to say to her but nothing that she wanted to because she knew she'd regret it.

"Still, it's a shame she has such a… questionable reputation. All of that partying and inappropriate dressing," Blair eyed her soon to be mother-in-law closely. While she might not be on the best of terms with Serena right now, she wasn't about to listen to a tirade on her.

"She isn't who she used to be," Blair shook her head, strands of chocolate brown hair flying "She's grown up, we all have."

"Yes," Anne paused to sip "You have all grown up, haven't you. Although some of you more than others."

Blair shifted her foot inside her royal blue Miu Miu pump. What was Anne getting at? She'd felt suspicious the moment she'd called to invite her out for afternoon tea and now, seated inside the Palace Hotel, she could feel heat rising in her neck and her back beginning to itch.

"Daniel Humphrey," Anne announced his name as if he had just entered the room "He attended Saint Jude's at the same time as Nathaniel didn't he? I read his work in the New Yorker a few weeks ago, did you see it? He's really rather good."

The look that the two women exchanged as Blair raised her eyes from her drink spoke volumes. Anne knew. Somehow she knew what had happened. Blair didn't even try and work out how she knew, but she did. The enquiring quirk of her eyebrow, the tenseness of her lips, the way she leant towards Blair as if she were revealing a secret. She knew and all of this, the tea, the constructed conversation, mentioning Serena, all of this was a warning. Do you want Nate to end up with a burnout blonde? Because he will. He will if you don't put a stop to your foolishness.

Blair felt her lungs swell like balloons in her chest and painfully press against her ribs. She pressed her fingers against the delicate china of her cup and stared down at the grain of the carpet.

"No I didn't see it."

* * *

><p>Moving day dawned early for Blair. She'd slept fitfully, finally giving up on sleeping at around four thirty. Her last night in her bed and she couldn't even properly enjoy it. She spent breakfast silently drinking a cup of coffee. Lately she'd been preferring it black. Dorota didn't ask questions but frowned when Blair pushed away her usual frothy cappuccino.<p>

Everything was already wrapped up, labelled and stowed carefully away so by the time the moving vans arrived, Blair left them to the heavy lifting. The apartment was so still, she couldn't remember it ever being this way, even after her Father had left. Her room seemed foreign somehow without her blue comforter, her portraits of Audrey, the Tiffany's bags that always seemed to be floating around. She wondered if her Mother would finally install a gym as she'd threatened when Blair had moved to Paris. Her Father kept emailing her fabric swatches that he suggested for the new place, something to add a little joie de vivre as he termed it.

I don't live here anymore, she kept repeating inside her head. This is not my home. She knew Nate would be waiting for her, waiting for her to take charge of the situation, direct the movers with her arms outstretched like an orchestra conductor. So she lifted her Valentino handbag, places it within the crook of her arm, turned on her pointy heel and left.

* * *

><p>She's on the way home, in the back of a Lincoln Town car, after lunch with her Mother at Pastis. The croque-monsieur she ordered is weighing heavily on her stomach. She'd plucked her cell phone from her handbag a few moments earlier but now Blair has no idea why. She really doesn't need to speak to anyone. Nate's working late with his Grandfather and Serena… Serena is MIA. She jiggles her fingers, knocking the phone from one side of her palm to the other.<p>

"Dan?" he picks up on the first ring and inhales heavily as she greets him as if hearing her voice has winded him.

"Blair, I-" he stops and she waits, waits for him to say something, anything that might mean something. "You shouldn't have called."

And then he hangs up. At first she's hurt. She stares at the empty phone screen as it slowly loses illumination. Then she's angry. Hot tears prick in her eyes. She shouts at her driver to move faster. She digs her manicured fingernails into her palms until her heartbeat pounds beneath the surface. She resolves never to speak to or think of Dan Humphrey ever again.


	11. Eleven

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **As always, I love feedback. Thank you for reading and commenting and being interested :)

* * *

><p>There's something quietly content about your own apartment, your own bed. Blair stretches her arms out like a smug cat, warm and full. At first she'd had thought she would resent this place, had almost resolved herself to do so. As much as it had been her idea, and as much as consenting to marry Nate in the first place had meant that this day would eventually come, she'd tried to block out the truth. Married people couldn't live separately after all. And Blair wanted this relationship to work, where all of their earlier tries had failed, this would succeed.<p>

Nate was out for drinks with some friends, and although he'd invited Blair she hadn't been interested. Besides it was healthy for a couple to spend time apart, wasn't it? Blair had just settled herself in bed with a large hot chocolate and a copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover when the doorbell rang. Glaring, she considered ignoring it. This was supposed to be her evening and now someone had the audacity to come calling? At eleven at night?

Hoisting herself out of bed she padded across the parquet flooring and pressed the intercom button.

"Hello?" the line buzzed slightly and she listened to the gently falling rain.

"Blair?" Dan's voice echoed in her mind. Surely she was imagining this.

"Dan? Wh-What are you doing here?" God she sounded pathetic. She inwardly cursed herself for stammering.

"I need to talk to you."

His voice was insistent. She knew she shouldn't invite him in, this was her and Nate's apartment, their soon to be martial home, this wasn't appropriate, especially considering their recent phone call.

"I'll buzz you in."

He looked tired and smelt like book pages and alcohol. In contrast with her carefully thought out and tastefully decorated lounge, he looked like a homeless person. "Kitchen," she directed him as she would a child, indicating the breakfast bar.

An odd sense of de ja vu trickled through her. She set the kettle to boil on the stove.

"This is…" he gazed blankly into space as if searching the air for the right word "Lovely."

She could have hissed. He was being sarcastic and they both knew it. "I like it," she tried to keep her expression impassive "I know it isn't to your taste, but Nate and I enjoy it." She lingered on the word enjoy.

Dan nodded slowly "I'm sure."

It wasn't awkward. It was more than awkward. Painful. That was what it was. Blair could feel his presence as if his nails were raking her skin. She wanted to punch him. "So, how are things?" she struggled against the anger that threatened to enter her tone.

"Good, good," was this really how it would be between them? Why was he here?

"Dan, why are you here?" it slipped out accidentally and her voice sounded weary.

He looked down, looked up, avoided her eyes "I had to talk to you. After you called- I had to talk to you."

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk to each other."

"You know that's not what I want."

"I have no idea what you want," she shrugged, lifting the now whistling kettle and pouring the hot water into two mugs "Why would I?"

The silence was marked only by the tinkling of teaspoons as Blair made the tea. "Well you seem to have a great set up here with Nate. Is it all you wanted?" there's a mean edge to his voice she's never heard before and she turns to stare at him.

"Yes it is. Is that what you wanted to hear?" his silence weighs heavy on her "Well you've heard me say it so feel free to skulk off back to your loft and write something about how superior you are now."

He glares at her for a moment and she raises her chin defiantly. "Thanks for the tea Mrs Archibald," he responds through gritted teeth and leaves in a swirl of damp raincoat.

Exhaling ferociously Blair slams both of the cups into the sink where they smash into jagged pieces of china.

* * *

><p><em>Lashing rain. Before she can question it she grabs Nate's oversized jacket from the hall, pushes her feet into flats and charges downstairs.<em>

_"Dan," he's almost to the corner by the time she catches up to him "I don't want-"_

_Suddenly his hands are in her hair and she can taste coppery blood on her tongue where his teeth have nicked her lips. They stick to each other, rain soaking their clothes, dripping down Blair's bare legs and meshing her slip to her body like a second skin. When they finally part she's trembling with cold and anticipation and something else. He smiles._

"Blair," Nate shakes her awake. Her eyelids snap open and all of the curtains are open with light flooding the bedroom. A tray filled with strong coffee and pain au chocolat sits beside her. "Morning beautiful," he slides in beside her, wearing a pair of blue plaid bottoms that look as if they have been plucked straight from the catalogue.

Settling her head on his shoulder, Blair tries to put all thoughts of Dan from her mind. It was all a dream. The important thing is that she didn't really kiss him. She's only made that mistake once. Never again.

"So I told her she should come over for dinner," apparently she'd been completely ignoring the fact that Nate was talking.

"Who should come over?" Blair enquired, breaking off a piece of pastry and dropping it into her waiting mouth.

"Serena of course," Nate laughed lightly "When she told me she hadn't seen the apartment yet I couldn't believe her. I ran into her in Barney's the other day."

Rather than replying, Blair took a mouthful of coffee. It seemed a good way to avoid having to say that the last person she wanted to see right now was her best friend. Former best friend. Whatever. "I guess it must have slipped my mind," she conceded.

Frankly the idea of facing Serena across a dinner table and attempting to make polite conversation made her blood boil. She couldn't stand the thought that Serena would be eyeing Nate, eyeing their apartment, eyeing their life. While their relationship had always been fraught, Blair had never felt this way before. She honestly didn't want Serena to know anything because she knew she'd use it against her. Anyone that didn't know them wouldn't understand why Blair was so cautious. But it wasn't as if, because of what Serena had said, things had suddenly changed. They'd always been competitive with each other, always had a strange dynamic. There was the fact that Serena had once been everything Blair wanted to be. Effortlessly beautiful, effortlessly stylish, effortlessly popular, she never seemed to have to try or strive to get exactly what she wanted. On the other hand Blair felt as if she'd worked very hard for everything she had. And then there was Nate. Serena had slept with Nate while he was Blair's boyfriend and subsequently run away to Connecticut without another word, leaving Blair in the lurch for months. In the time she was away, Blair's parents had separated and Blair had coped alone. When Serena eventually returned, she'd expected to slot right back into their old life. But Blair wasn't so forgiving.

The more time she spent thinking about Serena, the more she felt like the old Blair. Resentment brimmed inside her until it was all she could do not to smash her coffee cup on the ground. But they weren't seventeen anymore. Blair was marrying Nate and they lived together. They were adults.

"So when is she coming over?"

* * *

><p>The night was cold and dark as Blair lingered in front of her dressing table, waiting for Serena to arrive. She didn't want to go downstairs and have to talk to Nate, not when she felt like such a bundle of nerves. She wished she could be nonchalant about the whole situation but frankly it's all a little too close to the surface for that. Playing with one of her ringlets, rolling her ruby ring around and around her finger, she tried to focus. It will be fine. They will be civil, the food will be lovely, the apartment looks beautiful, she's wearing Marni, everything will work itself out.<p>

"Serena's here," Nate's voice breaks her concentration and Blair's heart falls into her stomach.

Serena looks amazing as always. Wearing a beaded shift, she could be Flapper Barbie, all legs and boobs and golden tendrils. Their greeting is weird and awkward and half a hug that doesn't really involve any feeling. Luckily Nate doesn't notice. Nate doesn't notice things like that.

Dinner is delicious, Dorota really outdid herself. Nate and Serena chat about old friends, Chuck, compare stories about their parents. Blair distances herself from the conversation.

When Nate gets up for another bottle of wine and they're left alone, Serena finally turns to her.

"Are you seriously not going to talk to me?"

Blair turns, a look of disbelief on her features "Is that really how you want to start this?"

Serena exhales, flips her hair "Look, I know what I said was crazy, but-"

"But what? Was it true or was it just something else to hurt me?"

"Of course I was lying," she takes a long mouthful of her drink "I saw you and Nate and how pathetic my life was in comparison and I just- I was afraid of what might happen. You're my two best friends in the whole world, I didn't want to lose you."

Quiet settled. Blair digested Serena's words. "You're an idiot," Serena glanced across at her unsurely "But I love you." Blair reached across the table to squeeze her best friends arm. "Besides, how am I meant to survive my Mother and this wedding without you?"

Tears brimmed in Serena's blue eyes and Blair smiled. In all honesty she had missed Serena. They were two halves of the same coin. Blair didn't even know who she was without Serena. Nate chose the perfect moment to re enter the room and a grin spread across his mouth at the scene before him.

"Refill anyone?


	12. Twelve

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **I know it's been a while, don't be mad with me I've been a busy girl. Please love it.

* * *

><p>The wedding day arrives so quickly it takes Blair's breath away. There's something equal parts terrifying and astonishing about the speed with which the biggest event in her life seems to approach. There's a certainty in Nate's eyes when he has says goodnight. She doesn't want to let go of his hands, there's something far too cold between her fingers. She kneels on her bed, watching him until he disappears from sight. Then she flops backwards and the sheets billow around her body. In her old room again. Except this time her wedding dress is waiting on a mannequin built to her own shape next door and her Mother and Serena are discussing late minute details in the kitchen. Who would have thought Serena would be so adept at wedding planning but she took to it like a duck to water.<p>

Blair feels very old all of a sudden. As if she's lived this life a hundred times before and now she's finally beginning to understand how it should all work out. She doesn't feel guilty for what she did with Dan, at least, not right now. That will come later, when she isn't trying to control her heartbeat and quell the nausea in her stomach. She feels rigid, as if she's leaning across the edge, the wind blowing in her hair. All she has to do is let go.

* * *

><p>Pop, snap, turn this way, smile, you're lovely. The photographs are endless. Blair just wants Nate all to herself. She wants to ask all of their five hundred guests to find somewhere else to be just so she can spend a moment alone with her husband. Husband, husband. That's right. Nate clenches a hand on the small of her back and she tries to smile but she's been doing it all day and it comes out looking forced. She'll regret that later.<p>

He never showed. She sent an invite to him, knowing he wouldn't, knowing it was a waste of very expensive paper. Of course he couldn't throw on a suit, anything but the corduroy. That isn't the truth, not even close but she'll say it is. Oh Dan Humphrey, isn't he a writer?

Serena is radiant a little way away and Blair can't help but notice that her best friend is flailing. No one else would notice but there's something cracked, something far too practiced, she's losing the battle with herself. Blair doesn't want to know if it's because she hasn't sniffed anything today. She looks back at Nate and his expression is one of unadulterated happiness but there's a strange undercurrent that makes springs coil in her heart. He's so handsome it hurts.

A flash of suit jacket catches her attention. Her eyes spot an unruly mop of hair, dark eyes, a battered satchel. Really, is he really going to do this? Something forces it's way to the surface of her skin, something iron and unavoidable. Dan Humphrey is at her wedding. But it isn't, just someone who could have looked like, could have been him. Dan Humphrey never came to her wedding.

* * *

><p>Nate says unexpected things. It's always been one of her favourite qualities, the way he seems to come out with something so profound just when she thinks he'll never surprise her. It's refreshing, that after having known someone for so long, they can still make you take a step back and question what you thought you knew.<p>

"I think we'll work out," he murmurs, with his mouth to her hair as they lie entangled after an evening of dinner and theatre. They were spending a week in London for their honeymoon and it had been grey so they'd spent a lot of time inside. Reading, drinking tea, not talking.

She looks up at him with an expression half concern, half amusement. "Oh really? Let me take a look in that crystal ball of yours then, I want to know what Chanel is going to make next season."

He laughs and squeezes her shoulder, shakes his head. "I'm serious. I know you think my proposal was out of the blue, but I'd actually been thinking about it for a while. I mean, you were in Paris, I was in New York, and it wasn't right. I just kept thinking, if anyone can make it then Blair and I can. You know, forever."

It's then. Right then that he reminds her why she loves him. She isn't sure if it's the shock or the poignancy of what he just said but her eyes sting. Instead of crying or saying anything at all because frankly, she couldn't top him anyway so she kisses him until she can't breathe.

* * *

><p>New York is a strange place. At once welcoming and foreign, Blair can't help but feel a strange love hate relationship with her hometown. So much good with so much bad. Hate and fear and jealousy alongside love and friendship and hope. She has so much hope.<p>

There's a letter dropped haphazardly on the hall table when they get back, still with flecks of snow on their coats from the wintery English weather. Blair tugs her gloves off with her teeth and slides the envelope open. The prickly handwriting is instantly recognisable and her heart slams against her ribs.

_You know I need to see you. I can't let you go without telling you. Don't go._

For one moment the entire world around her seems to pause. Sound slips away and movement ceases and there is only her fingertips and their contact with the paper.

"If it's bills then just throw it down, I don't want you looking at that stuff," Nate calls from the kitchen and the world snaps back into focus.

Blair galvanizes "It's nothing, just a stupid letter." So stupid, so incredibly stupid. He's a fucking fool for being so open. Blair wasn't even at the apartment the night before her wedding. That must have been when he delivered it. It wasn't opened so Nate hadn't seen it. She thanked the heavens. The page was covered with crossed out words and mistakes, clearly he'd spent some time on it. She could imagine his ink stained hand, bitten fingernails, hair slipping onto the page, frustration when he couldn't write what he was thinking.

She tries to banish thoughts of him from her mind but the more she pushes, the less they seem to budge until she has a loop in her mind of him. The way he drinks his coffee, how he always smelt of old book pages and the way his hands felt on her body...

"Blair?" Nate is calling her and she goes to his voice.


	13. Thirteen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **As always, let me know what you think. xoxo Lauren.

* * *

><p>Monday morning and weak sunshine filters through the kitchen windows. Blair nibbles a croissant, Nate brushes crumbs from his tie. He's been working with his Grandfather and his cousin Tripp lately and it's all he can talk about so Blair's glad when he points to an article in the paper. Anything other than talking about political philosophies and family legacies. Anything.<p>

"Look it's Dan," Blair's heart stutters a beat "He's on Page Six." Her eyes travel across to the page, scanning the title. Something about a Brooklyn boy made good. The alarming, is it really alarming, thing is that the photo accompanying it is actually of Dan. Smiling, thinly at best, with a leggy redhead on his arm. She's all pout and gloss, he's wearing Armani. Blair is in shock. "Who knew Humphrey was such a player, huh?" Nate laughs and sips his coffee.

We were never together, we aren't together, why does her chest feel so tight? Suddenly it's as if she's stuck in a space far too small for her and her knees are pressed against her chin, stopping the oxygen flow to her brain.

She was having lunch with her Mother at the old house, had gone upstairs to fetch something, she couldn't even remember what. But she slipped, she slipped on her way back down. The combination of high heel and shiny flooring seemed to defeat her.

Later, after Dorota had insisted she go to the doctor and check everything was okay, she wondered if maybe it wasn't. If maybe the reason she'd had so much trouble, so much anxiety about her relationship with Nate and her non-relationship with Dan was because she had some sort of imbalance. Perhaps it had existed since birth. What if they could prescribe her something. An endless stream of thoughts ran through her head as she waited for them to return with her blood work. Apparently it was protocol after someone took a fall. That and checking for a concussion. Blair was convinced they were just trying to get more money out of her.

As it turned out, she was fine. Nothing that bed rest and plenty of fluids wouldn't fix. Oh, and she's pregnant.

* * *

><p>"Dorota!" she's screeching and she knows it but Blair really isn't in the mood for slow moving housekeepers right now "Dorota I need you!" Huffing, she turns as her monochrome clad maid enters the bedroom. Nate's been away on business for the past two days and he'd been the first to suggest she should stay at her Mother's, especially since it meant that Dorota could keep an eye on her.<p>

As much as she shifted and tugged, the brocade fabric of her teal Lela Rose dress refused to budge. It just would not fit. The zip on the closely cut bodice will not close. She inhales, holds it all, waits while Dorota struggles but nothing happens. For some reason, her body has expanded. Having been a size two her entire life (apart from the eating disorder years, then she verged on a zero) she has inexplicably gained weight. And there's a reason for that. A reason she keeps denying but apparently her waistline cannot continue to conceal. Pregnancy is rounding out her body, giving her curves she never had before. She feels like a teenage girl fighting against puberty. It's a tide she cannot even attempt to stop.

Dragging the offending item off of her body she makes a beeline for the bathroom and locks the door on both sides of the space. She needs time alone to think and decompress. Outside Dorota is suggesting tea and toast but there's nothing that Blair wants less than food right now.

The en suite still smells comfortingly of macaroons and bath oil and Blair misses the simplicity of who she used to be when she inhabited this place. A girl who schemed and climbed and fought to be Queen Bee. Someone who didn't care about anyone else's feelings and never paid attention to the problems that arose as a result of her actions. Life was much cleaner and tidier then. You can't get hurt if you don't care.

She needs to tell Nate. She has to tell Nate. She tried broaching the subject when he brought her home from the hospital but his concern had been so touching, the way he'd carried her to bed and tucked her hair behind her ear had been so gentle, she hadn't wanted to ruin the moment. And then he'd been so busy with work and that had been all he wanted to talk about, she could feel her opportunity drifting away. It had felt like relief when he'd mentioned going away because for a few days she could alleviate the guilt that spread like poison every time she looked at him. He deserved to know that his whole life was about to change. Blair only wished she could return to not knowing.

* * *

><p>It's an especially cold night and Blair is home alone. Nate returned from his business trip, buoyed with his success and they spent the entire evening celebrating. He'd invited Chuck out to dinner with them and Blair had to admit, it was nice to see a familiar face. But even Chuck had raised his eyebrows at her when she refused champagne. Nate was too happy to notice.<p>

Toying with the page of the magazine she was reading she knocked her foot listlessly against the sofa. She was sprawled out, clad in silk pyjamas, enjoying some quiet time, waiting for Nate to come home. He'd been putting in so much overtime at the office lately she felt like she'd barely seen him so she'd resolved to wait up. It didn't matter how late because tonight was the night. The night on which Blair would tell her husband she was pregnant. The moment had come.

She heard the doorbell ring and smiled. Nate must have forgotten his key. Leaping to her feet she rushed for the door, buzzing him in and disappearing into the kitchen. She'd made dinner but kept it warm, ready for when he returned. Men always took surprises better on a full stomach.

"I'm in the kitchen," she called happily "The food's getting cold so hurry up."

Smiling, she watched the doorway, waiting for Nate's suit clad frame to appear. Instead hunched shoulders and an oversized tan blazer entered her vision. "Dan?" she couldn't hide the shock in her tone "I- I thought you were Nate."

"Clearly," his voice sounded gruffer than she remembered. His eyes, splashed with red, fell on the casserole dish on the counter. "Isn't that nice," he murmured.

She hated him being here. Seeing him contrasted against the clean lines of her kitchen, against her freshly washed hair and the elegant luxury of her expensive loungewear. It was wrong, all wrong. "Nate will be home soon, you have to go," she came out sounding much mousier than she'd hoped.

He turned from examining the room and his eyes burned into her. He stepped closer and closer until his chest was practically touching hers. "You shouldn't be here," she said but it came out as a whisper. His finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. Leaning in close, she could feel his breath on her lips.

"No!" she exclaimed, worming out of his grip. Pressing herself against the counter on the opposite side of the room, her face flushed hot and pink. "I'm pregnant," she blurted out before he could corner her again.

This time it was his turn to back away. He stumbled as if she'd slapped him and grasped hold of the side, his eyes never leaving her face. She wanted to apologise for being so abrupt. She wanted to kiss him until she fixed everything between them. But that wasn't going to happen. There was no way to go back, she could only go forward. With Dan she felt stuck. A prisoner of her own making.

He left the apartment without saying a word. Nate came home and they ate dinner. Blair didn't tell him.


	14. Fourteen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **You're all very special snowflakes for taking time out of your busy lives to read my made up nonsense. Sorry it's short but I thought it'd be better than nothing. Thank you and good night.

* * *

><p>"Nate I just- I wanted to tell you, I tried to tell you. So many times I almost did but there was always something else going on, something that needed your attention," she's grasping at straws here but it's the truth, she hadn't rehearsed it happening like this.<p>

The day had seemed like any other. Quiet and unassumingly it had arrived, and carried on in the way most did. But when Nate had returned home early, Blair had been enjoying a leisurely afternoon bath and she had not anticipated the fury he'd born in her direction. He was livid. Why did a journalist just inform me that my wife is pregnant? The walls of the room seemed to be contracting upon her. Blair's indecision had finally caught up to her.

Grabbing a robe she'd followed him into the bedroom, watching him silently as he paced. He'd been murmuring about bad press and such an embarrassment until finally he'd turned to her. The long moment he stared into her face was excruciating. "How could you not have told me?"

"I wanted to, I did," she shook her head, wet hair flying "I just didn't know how to and with Tripp's campaign it never seemed like the right time."

His face was incredulous "So you just made that choice for both of us, did you? Without consulting me, and now the papers have got wind of it?" he has every right to be angry, but this seems to be beyond that. Blair can feel his emotions crackling on her skin like electricity.

"I just can't believe-" he starts and stops "How could you-" he looks like he's about to leave so she stands up, grabs his arms, tries to look into his eyes. He shakes her away, but with a new, hurt emotion in his expression this time. Nothing's worse than that. "I can't talk to you," his emphasis is with shock on his last word.

* * *

><p>She loses track of the time she spends alone, in the apartment, at her Mother's, wandering the streets, drinking tea and staring into space. It's been two days and he hasn't returned any one of her calls or voicemails.<p>

It would be easy to run to Dan. She's lying to herself if that wasn't her first thought. Where is he, what is he doing? Probably having dinner with that redhead. Probably not.

She sleeps at Serena's. It has amazing panoramic windows in the lounge, floor to ceiling and all Blair can do is stare down. Serena potters around, boiling water, suggesting ordering take out, arranging cushions for Blair. She inwardly notes that none of the items in this apartment say anything about Serena so it's likely she hired someone. There's a photo though, in a silver gilt frame on the coffee table. It's of Blair, Chuck, Nate and Serena. Hair and scarf and coat entangled, haphazard grins with Serena throwing herself in, instantly making herself the focal point. Blair looks carefree. Her ringlets are slightly limp, her jacket is off to one side but that isn't the point. They look happy.

"He'll come around, you know," Serena says this in such a casual way, it can only be about one boy. It's always been about one boy.

"I don't know," Blair shrugs and tries to keep her eyes from filling. She doesn't do a very good job.

Serena arrives with art deco mugs filled with some version of tea and once she's set them down, she grasps Blair's fingers. "I know him and I know you. If anyone has a chance at forever, it's you two," there's no catch in her voice, no sarcasm in her tone. She means it.

"I thought that," Blair nods "Now I'm not so sure."

They fall asleep on the couch that night, Blair's head nestled on Serena's golden shoulder. It feels like they could be sixteen again.

* * *

><p>She avoids him, she tries really hard. It feels like betrayal though, when he's in front of her at an exhibit in the Met. Why does this keep happening?<p>

"Small island," he comments, as if he's read her thoughts. He does that far too often. She nods, swallows, considers pretending she hasn't seen him. There's no need for that. "I heard about Nate," she thinks about asking how, but then it seems obvious. Serena.

"I-" she pauses "We-" no that isn't correct either "He needs some time."

"But you need him," the disbelief in his voice is cutting "You need him now."

She swallows because she can feel the hotness pricking her eyes again. "He's well within his rights to be angry. I didn't tell him the truth. We're married, it's in the vows."

Dan's mad, she can tell by the way his hands are shaking. "But you're pregnant, he should be by your side," there's venom in his tone "I would be," it's a mutter but she can still hear it loud and clear. if you'd have made the right choice, you wouldn't be alone right now. A sad, pregnant, lonely girl wandering around a museum by herself. That wouldn't be you.


	15. Fifteen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **As always, I hope you enjoy. And don't worry, Blair's little bundle of joy will be born soon! xo

* * *

><p>We make our own choices, don't we? Is that how it works? Blair had always believed she was in charge of her destiny, able to mould her future into the picture perfect image she'd imagined since she was little. When she and Serena had played at what they'd grow up to be, which had been pretty much everyday, Serena had always been the princess. Or the popstar or Marilyn Monroe. She'd twirl and twirl, all dressed in her Mother's snow white Chanel, laughing and posing and tossing her hair. It had been impossibly long and golden, even then. Blair had always been Audrey. Serena always asked her why she didn't want to try someone else, had always suggested endless women she could be instead. But Blair had felt satisfied with her choice. Because to her, Audrey was everything Serena was trying to be wrapped into one. She was beautiful and she wore beautiful things. She was interesting and smart and men treated her as their equal. She could be sad or happy or excited. And there was something else, something in her that Blair knew because she felt the same. She just couldn't work out what it was.<p>

As they grew and eyes began to linger on Serena and heads turned for Serena and whispers followed Serena, Blair tried not to mind. Most of the time she managed it, she accustomed herself to being an after thought. Is Serena going to be here tonight? Does she have a boyfriend? Can you talk to her for me? It wasn't that Blair was unattractive, far from it, but she lacked her best friend's natural magnetism. Serena was a planet to orbit and her gaze was as hot as the Sun itself. She said she didn't mind, not until Nate. Not until she found them snuggled together on her bed, filling the space she'd just vacated. They looked like they didn't need her anymore. So she wormed her way between them and pressed her nose into his collarbone. This was how it should be.

She should have known then. Three points of a triangle, sometimes taut, sometimes loosening, but always in the same shape. Always formed around the same point. Then suddenly, two points began to drift away from the third. And that was when it all crumbled. They didn't work without each other, somehow it had become that way. It was when Blair realised she didn't want, couldn't live without either of them, that she became afraid. What if they chose each other.

She isn't afraid of much, Blair Waldorf. She used to be afraid of getting fat. That doesn't matter anymore. She was once afraid of Dorota. That lasted all of five minutes. Nate still frightens her. There's a strange intensity that only he seems to possess, it's as if his entire body is humming. And you wouldn't think of a boy with such carefree eyes and such an easy smile. It's windy and cold and rain beats out a steady rhythm. Blair is drifting in and out of sleep, bad memories and hurt feelings plaguing her exhausted conscious. A warm hand. The world is blurry dark.

"I love you," he's whispering into her messy hair and she could cry. She does, salty tears wetting the pillow. "Promise me you'll never keep anything from me again," his chin digs into her shoulder and she doesn't know if he's intentionally trying to hurt her, but a dull pain forms beneath her skin. "Blair?" she nods because she doesn't trust her voice. She turns to face him. His mouth tastes like bourbon.

* * *

><p>Months fly by. She doesn't know if it's because she's pregnant or just because they do. But Blair has never been this happy. Nate makes an effort to come home for dinner every night. They eat a lazy brunch in bed every Sunday morning. He tickles her until she cries. Serena and Chuck are frequent visitors, always bringing gifts. Serena carries pretty maternity wear, soft baby clothes and gossip magazines. Chuck always seems to think Blair needs bath salts. She doesn't ask why. Her Father stays for a long weekend. They have lunch together, like they used to. He makes her swear she'll bring the baby to Paris the second she can because 'a child simply cannot grow without having seen the Louvre.' Presents seem to be delivered everyday, from people she can't remember. A hand bound copy of The Velveteen Rabbit wrapped in brown paper is hidden amongst the shoes and photo albums. She doesn't have to read inside to know who it's from but she does anyway.<p>

_"What is REAL?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"  
>"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."<em>

The quote is hand written and the pen marks are prickly and veering across the page. Something inside of Blair's chest feels like it's aching. She holds the book in her palms for a long, long time before putting it down.


	16. Sixteen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **Well this is certainly unexpected. It's been... a really long time but this happened. So I thought I'd put it out there, and see what you thought. I know a lot of you have loyally read everything I've put together, and I guess this is my way of saying thank you. I'll try and keep going, I promise.

* * *

><p><em>God bless the child, who can't find their way home.<em>

_God bless the child, who is weary in soul._

Her eyes swim as she fades in and out of consciousness. Nate and Serena and her Dad, why is her Dad here? Wasn't he in Paris? Where am I? Lights burn overhead and it seems as if her surroundings are moved at lightning speed while she remains stationary. She wants to hold Nate's hand, she wants someone to tell her truth. Because all she can remember is falling, all she can remember is the distance between the top of the stairs and the bottom and the crunching sound her body made as she hit the ground.

_God bless the child, who is broken and bruised,_

_God bless the child, who just wants to be good._

She's so tired. So incredibly tired. And she feels so old. As if she has travelled far and wide, only to end up here. Exhausted and broken. Every limb screams out in protest when she tries to move. Her lips feel sewn together. Stupid and slow. Serena's hair tickles her face along with a salty moisture that weaves its way down Blair's face. Tears? Tears.

_Oh beware, to take care of yourself,_

_Or you lack the strength, to help somebody else._

"-There was just too much damage, you lost so much blood and they couldn't," Nate makes a choking sound and as he swallows it sounds painful, as if there are rocks in his mouth. This isn't real, this isn't real. Blair shuts her eyes. This can't possibly be true. Things like this don't happen to them. She wants him to leave. Before, all she wanted was his hand, his voice, his face. Now she never wants to see him again. It's gone, it's all over. There is nothing left.

_So take care, take care,_

_Of yourself._

* * *

><p>Nate goes back to work a week later. She encouraged him to, she didn't want him moping around the apartment, making endless pots of tea that neither of them had the energy to drink. At least he was trying, was all Serena could say. But Blair wished he wouldn't. She already felt guilty enough without having to deal with Nate's face at every moment of the day. She drinks coffee, black, all day everyday. It feels like a middle finger to the universe after spending months avoiding anything that might affect her unborn child. No shellfish, no alcohol, no caffeine.<p>

Her Mother visits and she hasn't been there ten minutes before she's crying. Blair doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say. Somewhere she feels angry, because this happened to her and yet somehow, she's ended up comforting everyone else. She excuses herself to the kitchen and finds quiet cool within the pantry. A bottle of wine beckons. She closes her eyes and lets it slip down her throat, lets it drown her. I wish it had been me.

She's getting out of the shower when she catches a glimpse of her body in the mirror. It's shocking really, how quickly she goes back to looking the same. It's almost as if it never happened. Really, it could be. Her hand lingers for a moment on her stomach. And all she can think is that it's empty.

* * *

><p>It's so real. This dream about baby showers and ribbons and beautifully soft, Tiffany blue cashmere. She wakes up sweating and panting, her body tense and hot. She bends, brings her knees up to her chest and tries to remember where she is, who she is. It gets more difficult every time she tries.<p>

My name is Blair Waldorf. I am twenty years old. I live in New York. I am married to Nate Archibald. Even as she holds her breath, sobs come choking out, filling her lungs, throwing out the sound as if she's just been winded.

Nate isn't here, this is the second night in a row he's slept at the office. Or Chuck's, she doesn't really know. She doesn't ask. God, why doesn't she ask? Even in this haze, she knows what's happening is wrong. She can feel herself drifting away from him, from everyone. But she's powerless, there's nothing to tether her.

Reaching for the phone, there's something comforting about its cold solidity. She dials, her fingers finding the numbers she'd thought were long forgotten.

"Dan?"


	17. Seventeen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **Good lordy it's been a while. Since I've written, well anything really. But I've been listening to Daughter a lot and well... here we are. Let me know what you think, and to those who've been following this loyally, muchos gracias. I hope this meets your v high expectations. I feel really lucky to have people that come here to review and read my random writings, so thank you.

* * *

><p><em>"You could still be, what you want. What you said you were, when i met you."<em>

_Daughter, Medicine._

She left him that message. Just her saying his name and the abrupt noise of the phone dropping, because she couldn't seem to find the rest of the sentence.

She hadn't expected him to call back, but then one day there he was. Nate called her from downstairs, she'd thought it'd be Serena, perhaps her Mother. Nate kissed her cheek, apologizing but he was going to have to run, really important meeting, see you at dinner.

They'd stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Blair gathered herself. Invited him to sit down, scurried into the kitchen to put some water on to boil. Asking him about his work, if he'd been busy. Brewed the tea, poured into bone china, sat across from him. Silence.

She sips, although it burns her tongue, because she needs something to do. He glances up at her, looks back at the arm of the chair as if he's fascinated by the fabric. It was imported from Paris, she thinks.

"I miss you," the words blurt out of her mouth and she doesn't regret what's true.

He looks up, eyes a startled, vivid colour. But there's recognition, there's acceptance. He nods. "Me too. I missed you, I mean, not myself. Clearly."

She laughs, but it's more like a cough. Silence again. "I know we can't-" she stops, breathes "I need you to be my friend. Or something like a friend. It's too-" she can't find the words today "Much without you. Or too little, I don't know."

He's staring at the rug and she fears she made a terrible, terrible mistake. Why would he want to talk to her? After everything.

"Yes, Blair Waldorf, I'll be your friend."

* * *

><p>Serena asks about her weight constantly and Blair half considers suggesting she become a nutritionist. Perhaps that is her true calling in life, persistently interrogating others about their food intake.<p>

"I'm fine, really, now eat your cupcake," Blair smiles, with a chiding voice and a hand squeezing her best friend's bronzed knee (she was in Santorini again, Blair doesn't want to know.)

She and Dan are careful. They avoid places that carry too much, places from before. They keep before very separate, marked by Hadrian's Wall and the Great Wall of China and many other significant fortifications.

Safe zones are exhibitions, the occasional film (nothing Audrey because, no) and well lit restaurants. He always wants to get dim sum, she complains about the quality of the dumplings, time rewinds and fast forwards.

She and Nate seem to be overcoming something, although she can't quite figure out if it's the loss of the baby or of something else entirely. She can go into the nursery now without feeling like she'll pass out. She packs the tiny, tiny clothes into boxes and stores them somewhere safe. They'll need them someday, when their minds and her body is ready.

Nate is working late and she and Dan are supposed to be having dinner but Blair's full to the brim with cold but he insists on coming over because he's rented Revolutionary Road and it's one of his favourites. And who is Blair to refuse when he's carrying take out sushi and Kate and Leo have something to say?

He falls asleep on her shoulder. She doesn't notice for a good half an hour, she's so engrossed in the plot. Has she seen it before? She can't remember, but the costumes are good. The end makes her cry. Cry like she hasn't in months, as if she'll expel all the liquid in her body through her tear ducts. Dan wakes up just when she's pulling herself together, bleary eyed and she turns, her lashes meshed together and smiles wryly.

"Good morning sunshine."

* * *

><p>Serena is getting married. He's much older and handsome, in a George Clooney reminiscent way. She's so enthusiastic and bouncy about it all, that Blair doesn't have the heart to ask her the tough questions. But what about…<p>

Her dress is so white and so bright, it makes Blair's eyes sting when she looks at it too long. They're sat poring over the seating arrangements when Blair notices that Lily van der Woodsen isn't on the list.

"Are you having your family on the top table?" she flips the page. Not there either. "Did we miss out your Mom?"

Serena is thin lipped and jiggles her knee beneath the table. Blair stares at her for a moment. "Are you not inviting your Mom?" it comes out in a stage whisper, even though they're alone.

"No."

"But, I," Blair's eyes transfer back to the list and the letters seem to overwhelm her "She's your Mother. They're your family."

"She doesn't like him. She says I'm making a mistake. She says," her voice falters and for a moment, Blair thinks she hears her falter "It doesn't matter what she says. It doesn't matter." She stands up, chairs legs scraping the floor and making an awful sound. "I'm getting more wine."

Blair watches her head into the kitchen, speechless, for once.


	18. Eighteen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note: **Apparently music is my main inspiration so... yes. As always, let me know you what you think. The future of this one is all up for discussion.

* * *

><p><em>i carry the weight of you in my heavy heart,<em>

_and the wind is so icy, i am numb,_

_i carry the weight of you heading back to the start,_

_with a thousand eyes on me, i stumble on._

_i am tired, i'm growing older,_

_i'm getting weaker everyday,_

_i carry the weight of you._

_cher lloyd, sirens._

She and Nate sometimes don't speak for days. It isn't uncomfortable, but it isn't welcome either. And then suddenly he'll be home, with his arms so tight around her it crushes the oxygen from her. Then it's all buttons ripping off and hands in her hair and oh god, sighing and moaning and mussed bed sheets.

She loves him, she knows she does. Because when he lies there, all still and silent and possibly asleep, with no words to explain why he is this way, she can't help but smile. When she was sixteen, this was all she dreamed of. Nate, all to herself. Really, truly, all to herself because Serena was about to become a married woman and who else would have taken him from her? Taken perhaps, but certainly not kept.

He can be so distant. And she can see in his eyes he's somewhere else entirely, though she continues to speak in the hope he might respond. Usually it just brings a sound that seems to be in agreement. Which is why, she supposes, those moments when their fingers lace and her back arches are so sacred to her. Because for once, he's focused on her. He whispers I love you into her hair and for a few seconds, the Dan guilt alleviates and her brain crackles with NateNateNate.

* * *

><p>It's Serena's wedding day and as chaotic as Blair had imagined. There must be ten thousand dollars worth of flowers arranged on every surface, the smell is overwhelming and Blair knows this is what Serena saw when she was seven. When they lay in bed, legs entangled, talking about Prince Charming and how many diamonds they'd have on their dresses and how their hair would be long, just like mermaids.<p>

She finds her best friend primping, fluffing her hair and admiring her lipgloss, twisting and turning, admiring this angle and that. For a moment she stops, just looking at her. The sun illuminates her head, and it looks like golden fire.

Then Serena spots her in the mirror and the tiniest of frowns forms between her pruned eyebrows. "You're late," her voice is green apple sour.

"Traffic on Fifth, Nate's tuxedo was late back from the cleaners," Blair's excuses are paper thin but Serena seems to accept them and watches as Blair fusses with her train, spreading it out across the carpeted floor of the dressing room.

They stare at each other for a moment then, as a wide smile spreads itself across Blair's mouth. They are here, when she never thought they would be. Blair will never love anyone more than she loves Serena, a love so difficult at times, so close to pain that she would never wish it on anyone. A love that has transcended boys and decades and scandals and death.

Then they're being hurried outside and bridesmaids are heading down the aisle. And it's just them, and a draught whistles across the back of Blair's neck. She clenches her hand around Serena's. "Tell me this is what you want," she whispers, without looking at her "Tell me he's The One for you and I'll never ask again. I promise."

Serena cranes her neck round, quite a feat considering the tiara concoction resting upon the crown of her head. Her expression reminds Blair of when they were ten and she nearly drowned. She hadn't heard her scream, just the splash afterwards. She must have knocked her head because by the time Nate got to her, she was upside down, hair floating like a golden cloud. Nate knew CPR because the Captain had taught him as part of his sailing lessons and Serena was soon gasping for air. And that face, that breathless face hung in front of Blair now. She thought she'd forgotten about that.

"Please," she sounded tearful "Please don't ask me that."


	19. Nineteen

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note:** I honestly don't even know where to start. This story continues to bounce around in my head and I haven't written anything in a while and that was starting to drive me insane. As always, comments are much appreciated.

* * *

><p><em>what if I said I would break your heart?<em>

_what if I said I have problems that made me, mean?_

_what if I knew I would just rip your mind apart,_

_would you let me out?_

_maybe you can stop before you start,_

_maybe you can see that i just may be too crazy to love,_

_if i told you solitude fits me like a glove,_

_would you let me out?_

_banks, you should know where i'm coming from._

She knows.

It's a Wednesday morning, nothing particularly remarkable. Around half eleven and Blair is reaching for her third cup of coffee, listening to the machine crackle and spurt. She feels tired and heavy, her fingers laced with lead as they clasp porcelain. And there it is, that hot twist in her stomach, that same coppery metal taste on her tongue. The cup falls, smashes and for a moment, sound ceases.

The doctor confirms what she already knows and when tears leak from her eyes, she isn't sure who they're for or what they mean. But the person that shows up is Dan, cheeks pink from the rushing and his hand clenches Blair's. And she tells him and watches the pain register in his eyes, but there's concern there too. Do you want me to call Nate? _No, please don't_.

He takes her home, their knees colliding rhythmically with each pot hole on the road. He brews tea, or she imagines he does, as she retires to the bedroom, draws the shades, pulls her dress over her head and disappears beneath the covers.

His feet shuffle toward her, she notes the vague outline of steam from the cup he deposits on her bedside table. He hovers, unsure until she pats the spot beside her. She lifts the sheet and grabs handfuls of his shirt, hauling him toward her until they're nose to nose.

His breath is hot on her neck and she's trembling but it's not about him. "I'm scared." His thumb brushes at her closed eyelids, as if he's wiping away tears that haven't formed yet. "I don't know if I can do this again."

"I know you can," his voice is so certain and she wishes she could absorb that. But she's too busy remembering all the silence and the aching hurt, that deep down feeling that her own body had betrayed her.

Intimacy isn't sex. She used to imagine it was, two bodies colliding in the heat of the moment, seeking out pleasure, desperate for some sort of release. But once that abated, that was the true test. Intimacy is about comfort, about safety, about needing their touch to make you feel still. To quieten you.

With his eyes on her, she felt she could finally say it. "I'm pregnant."


	20. Twenty

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note:** So I tried to make this one a decent sized update, mostly because I feel so guilty that you're all still bothering a review when all I provide is a handful of random words strung together. Let me know what you think.

* * *

><p>A light wind curled its way across the bonnet of the car as they approached the Archibald estate. She had attempted to seem unfazed when Nate had mentioned a weekend with his family, sports and dinner and all the inevitabilities. So she smiled and shopped and packed everything neatly and she sat beside him while her beloved city blurred past.<p>

Nate got out and popped the trunk. She remained seated, looking at the house, at every shining window, every expensive dressing and stone parapet. She could remember feeling so dwarfed by this building when she'd first seen it. So drawn in by its sheer size, by the heavy history that seemed to cloy the air. God, she wanted a cigarette.

Nate's fingers wove a figure eight on the inside of her wrist throughout dinner and she tried not to let it distract her. Things between them had been so strange, so distant that just his touch sent sparks across her body. She hadn't told him she was pregnant, which felt like de ja vu. She knew she should, she knew she would, she just hadn't found the exact right moment.

Secretly she was terrified he wouldn't be happy. She didn't even know if she was happy, did they have to go through this again? Not to say it would end in tragedy, but really?

Their room was beautiful, in an overly ornate way. She lay out across the bed, kicking off her shoes and latching her hands in her hair. It felt wrong, smiling and exchanging anecdotes.

"Hey," his voice is so soft she almost doesn't hear him but then she does. He's leaning in the doorway of the en suite, arms crossed, so she props herself up on her elbows to look at him.

"Hey," the word cracks along her throat, coming out as a strange double syllable. She wants to go to him, wrap her arms around his neck and tell him the truth between kisses. She wants to see the joy erupt on his face as he lifts her off her feet, feel the delicate breath of his voice on her ear as he whispers "really?"

She wonders what's next for them if it isn't this baby. Because they're married and young and does that mean that they'll just drift through life? Family events and work and diversions? What happens when there are no more milestones to mark, just the hours dragging past and the light dimming.

He crosses the room in three paces and hovers above her for a moment, hands clasped on the bed covers, chest achingly close. Her ribs feel like they're contracting as he descends, lips brushing her nose, chin and chest before continuing on a path down her stomach.

At seventeen, the idea of having sex in the Archibald house had thrilled and terrified her. In those days, she pretended to ignore the sly jokes everyone made about corridor creeping. But then it had been about expressing status, about staking her claim. About making sure that every other girl knew who he belonged to, belonged with. About making sure they saw the ring of red just above his shirt collar.

Blair always left a mark.

* * *

><p>"Tell me three things you like about me."<p>

She's young, naked as the day she was born, lying on her front, with a sheet strategically placed across her. Dan's hand is running a circuit from her shoulder blades down to the base of her back and she won't admit it, but it feels like heaven.

"I like," he pauses, places a sloppy kiss on her arm "Your face."

She laughs, a snorting, unladylike laugh. "Oh really? You flatter me so, Mr Humphrey," feigning Elizabethan decency, she fans herself with a delicate hand.

It's his turn to laugh. "I like your mind. Even when I was-" he stops and it feels like sand is coating her throat. He was going to mention Serena. "You were always prickly and it intrigued me. You did. You made me want to know more about you." His eyebrows crease. "And then less."

This wasn't supposed to become serious. It was supposed to be playful, post coital conversations between them usually ended with kissing and breathlessness, not weighted silences and averted eyes.

"I," she leans in, places a finger under his chin, lifts his face to look into her own "Liked your butt."

* * *

><p>She wakes up alone. The bed beside her is cold, Nate is long gone. Probably hunting or sporting or whatever else Archibald men do when gathered in large groups.<p>

She sits up, glances out of the window at the world, glazed with warm sunshine like an expensive French pastry. Her dreams had been tangled, switching between the present and the past, nights with Dan and mornings with Nate, even Chuck had made an appearance.

Her mind felt fuzzy, coated in confusion. Cleanliness beckoned and she filled the bath to the brim before sliding in, disappearing beneath the surface in a sprinkle of bubbles.

Warm water invaded her eyes, her ears, tickling behind her knees, the soles of her feet. She could still feel Dan's kisses on her back, he was always worshipping at the places she thought no one else noticed.

A text message awaited her as she towelled off.

_Tell him_.


	21. Twenty-One

**Author:** Lauren.

**Rating:** Rated M.

**Character/Pairing:** Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

**Summary:** Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

**Disclaimer:** GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

**Author's Note:** You're all such little gems for still being interested in this. I hope my ramblings meet your high expectations. As always, your thoughts mean a whole lot.

* * *

><p><em>"He had come such a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close he could hardly fail to grasp it."<em>

**- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby.**

* * *

><p>When Blair was sixteen, it had been so us and them.<p>

Serena and Nate and Blair, three parts of the same person. Three corners of the triangle, three people so different and yet so alike.

Sometimes she thought she had the makings of the perfect murderer. Highly intelligent, highly emotional, deeply connected to the people around her. Jealous to the point that hearing her utter 'if I can't have them, no one can' wouldn't be out of place. Plus she was delusional enough to think she'd get away with it.

When she first started having sex with Nate again, after it happened, at first it hadn't seemed right, to find comfort in each other when her body had just destroyed- when they had lost so much. But now, it was all she wanted. To rip off his clothes and feel his hands appreciate her skin. Tangle his fingers in her hair and lose control. Let someone else hold her pieces for once.

She tries to find small things wonderful. A well made latte. Cleverly written prose in the New Yorker. The whisper kiss of silk against her body.

But then it gets so hard. She walks past a park and catches sight of a little girl with dark, bouncing hair and bright blue eyes and it's as if someone has stolen her spine and her body concertinas. Fists form around the railing as she forces herself upright.

She laughs and twirls in her Father's arms, singsong voice announcing an incredible achievement. Blair tightens her fingers until her manicured nails break the skin of her palm.

Because she's pregnant again and she wants it to be right this time. But she's still mourning what they nearly had and it feels like moving on, it feels like letting go, it feels like something she doesn't want. But then what does that say of her as a woman, as a Mother, as the incubator that's growing another tiny life?

She walks away.

* * *

><p>Serena has a strange, far away look in her eyes when they meet for lunch. Blair is chattering about renovating the apartment, she isn't happy with the drapes (they're too white? I don't know, what do you think?) when she realises her best friend isn't listening.<p>

"S?" her voice has a vague irritation within it, she'd been trying to seem easy and concerned with interior design and Serena can't even pretend to be interested.

"Yes?" she looks up, big pale eyes full of something Blair can't quite understand "Sorry," it's a mumble and Serena doesn't mumble.

"What's up with you?" Blair spears a piece of asparagus on her fork and places it inside her mouth. Chewing, she glanced outside as rain slithered down the pane. New York has been particularly inhospitable lately. She considers organising a getaway to a warmer climate. St Barts? Santorini? (Definitely not Santorini.) Turning back to Serena she finds her face a near mirror of the weather. Blair's hand immediately folds over Serena's and she squeezes and waits.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

><p>She remained calm, she really did. She reassured Serena that everything would be fine and gave her the business card of the doctor Blair had frequented. Kind eyes, warm hands. She walked home alone, heels tapping evenly against the pavement.<p>

Her hands fist around the neck of a bottle of merlot but she smashes it in the sink before she can consume a drop.

* * *

><p>The turquoise blue laps against Blair's specially constructed swimming pool chair. She spared no expense, decking it out in luxurious cushions and other modern conveniences. Nate keeps calling her 'Your Highness' so she smiles indulgently and returns to her book.<p>

Nate was strange for a while after he found out about Serena's pregnancy. One particular night sticks out in Blair's memory. She'd thought initially that perhaps it was some long held jealousy, that perhaps, even after all this time, he still imagined Mrs Serena Archibald and their golden haired offspring.

But that night, he'd come into the room staggering, as if his lower body was simply too heavy to carry. His body collided with hers in the lounge and she'd been ready for kissing but not for the wetness of his face on her shoulder.

He cries for what feels like hours, as they sink to the carpet and lie, entangled to the point that she can't tell whose limbs belong to whom. When he finally stops, she wonders if he's passed out from dehydration.

His voice is rough with an emotion she's never heard from him before as he says "I wish it was you."


End file.

Gossip Girl, Drama, Romance